Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tokyo.

I’ve always been thinking how Tokyo would be like in 2018.

Years ago I read an article said that maybe Tokyo is such a changeable city, which advances so fast that thousands of new products, ideas and people are being produced constantly by machines. People are like the diced fruit in a can. If they fail to struggle desperately to stand out against different flavours, they will be considered as trash and thrown into the bin even though they are still in the shelf-life period.

I didn’t realise the meaning of this article when I was in Tokyo, where people around me and I myself changed all the time. I used to go abroad when in the primary school, but Tokyo or Japan never felt so strange as it does now. Suddenly I was lost in its prosperity.

I squeezed towards the exit with the crowd, noticing for the first time how annoying the sound of tickets in and out was. A red cross would come into sight abruptly when there was something wrong, and with the yellow noticeboard above the whole thing made me feel like being in a stadium, put out of the running.

By who? Me? The airport? Tokyo? Or the world?

I looked up and see several white circles, as if I would be taken away by a UFO at any time with no one saving me.

“Nagi, we are here!” I just exited the airport entrance as Yaya’s voice jumped into my ears before I could return to my senses. She made a trumpet shape with one hand near her mouth and waved with the other.

The March sun was mild, surrounded by a little dappled golden light sifted with a sieve, swirling and changing erratically.

Everyone stayed the same. Amu was still in a shawl length hair with a small ponytail. Hotori-kun wore a faint smile, but his brows were not as soft as before. They two stood together, not close. Yaya raised one hand to greet me, still looking like a baby even though she was going to be a senior in the college. Kukai seemed to grow taller. I wondered if it’s because he was made fun of by the others for his height before I left, and then made every effort to make it. How childish he is, as always.

To my surprise, Hikaru was here, who grew up with a poker face. Honestly, he was cuter as a child if he must be like that. Since I taught him to play basketball, he had often been requiring me to accompany practice, which bothered me a bit due to this little president’s perfectionism.

“How come you didn’t tell Yaya that you’ll come back? Nagi is so sly!” Yaya questioned me first as I approached.

“I messaged Soma-kun to help me inform you guys because I was too busy preparing to return. I’m so sorry for that. How about treating you to dessert next time?”

“Only Yaya? What a biased guy, Fujisaki-kun.” Tadase said quietly, smiling, before Yaya could shout out happily.

Amu noded her head repeatedly, and Hikaru did so slightly.

“Hotori-kun…” I was a little embarrassed about his high acuity.

“Haha, let’s go.” Soma-kun suddenly slid his arms round Hotori-kun and me, “I’ve reserved the restaurant so you can treat anyone you like to anything.”

My heart was in my mouth at once, “Your treat?”

He blinked at me with confusion though, “No way. In the name of Fujisaki for sure. Who else can do that?”

I tried my best to smile politely, “Thanks for the high compliment.”

And then he let go of my shoulder with a painful groan.

-

I’ve imagined many times what would happen if I returned to Tokyo. It seemed that I could take becoming a prophet into consideration because of my good prophecy.

After dining together with my friends, I declined their kindness lying that my housekeeper would pick me home.

I strolled the street alone, with my suitcase grumbling, reminding me of the flashing white light of some cars one night this spring.

I’ve been to London, Paris, New York, Berlin, Milan, Hong Kong and Shanghai during my four years’ studying abroad, and performed in Paris and Shanghai at the request of my family. When in Shanghai, I looked out in the direction of Japan thinking whether I could go back home by jumping into the sea and swimming forward directly.

I had a roommate in Shanghai, who handed me a golden and delicate beer can that night.

“I guess you are a little bit distressed, because the moon is close, while Tokyo far.” And then he explained to me that it was a paraphrase of a Chinese emperor’s saying. The Sun is close, while Chang’an far.

Holding a PhD in science and specializing in history, he introduced me to many Chinese stories in Japanese, which he learnt on his own. And his fluency impressed me a lot. He would also explain the cultural differences before I could question so I could follow him easily.

“Nagi will go back next spring, right?” Su asked me one day.

“Just call me Su”, he said when we first met, “Because my first name is too hard for you to pronounce.”

“Yes.” I noded.

“One last story for you then.” He chinked glasses with me, cans’ sound peculiar. Speaking of which, he was so keen on drinking that almost no drink no day. Usually he would enjoy the night view of Shanghai on the balcony at the same time. And it could be said that I was lucky to have a free drink with him. “Chinese won’t accept your money in this situation. Just follow our custom.” Once he said. That’s why I’ve had a habit to drink a liitle bit every night regularly.

“There is a bird called cuckoo you know, whose sound is so marvellous that the ancient Chinese poets couldn’t help versifying it.”

We stood propped up on the railing. His feet crossed, toes tapping the ground rhythmically. I observed him sideways. A patch of streaming light in the background. For a moment I felt like I was back in Tokyo.

-

I suddenly froze.

Maybe I shouldn’t be that confident in my prophecy.